


Stretch

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Fisting, M/M, Manipulation, Not Safe Sane ans Consensual, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' mind wanders when his limbs cannot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stretch

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on teenwolfkink at lj, basically just asking for derek/stiles with fisting.

He has you tied down to the bed. Soft black fabric, stretched to the limit by your flexing limbs as you shudder and writhe as much as you’re allowed, clinging to your arms and legs and the headboard that for once is not banging repetitiously against the wall behind it.

He’s fingering you relentlessly, thumb rubbing against your rim while the other four press against your prostate often enough to completely shroud you in pleasure, making your mind unable to handle anything more than the primitive thoughts of more and yes and _please_.

Thoughts like the one where Derek usually only uses three fingers to prepare you, and that it is regularly not so slick but more dry, making every single inch pressed in – whether it be finger cock toy – so much more noticeable compared to now when your ass feels almost filled to the brim with lube.

You don’t complain though, because it feels so good without the edging on painful edge that it normally has, and you can’t help but moan out in pleasure.

Your noise is cut off by his hand – the other one – clamping down on your neck, making you unable to breath and if this wasn’t something that had happened plenty of times before, wasn’t something that aroused you to no end, fright maybe would have pierced through the haze. Maybe would have made your heart beat faster from fear in place of arousal. Maybe would have made you want to scream for help, and not more please more.

As it is now, you only notice it distantly, as if it was a matter of little importance.

And maybe it is, for you suddenly realise with a startling clarity just why Derek was taking so long with his fingers instead of just splitting you open with his cock, just why he has made your channel into more of a wet, squelching pussy than he’s ever bothered with before. Because it’s no longer only four fingers inside you, but four fingers _and a thumb_ , a thumb that was no longer putting pressure on your skin from the outside, but stretching your already wide, wide opening even more.

You can’t help but wonder if it will ever close completely again.

He lets up a little on your throat – not much, but something – and you suck in a harsh breath of air that almost immediately exit from your mouth as a groan.

And it’s too much, when he bites down hard enough to draw blood on your throat. Too much, when he once again cuts of your breathing and presses you down so hard you wouldn’t have been able to move an inch even without the cloth tying you up. Too much, when you feel his knuckles inch their way into your behind, scraping against your fragile insides even with all the lube.

But at the same time it’s _not enough_ , and the only word you would utter if you could breathe would be _more_.

You can’t remember if you always had been wanting to be exactly like this – Derek’s little filthy bitch who can’t help but want more and more and more inside him, as long as it’s Derek – or if he somehow managed to program you to be this way somewhere along the road and you just didn’t notice.

Then he’s calling you a good boy, such a _good boy_ , for his hand is all the way in, alternately stretching as wide as possible and curling into a tight fist, and your ass is clamping down on his wrist and dear god you’ve got your hole stuffed full with Derek’s thick fingers and big – huge – palm and it really shouldn’t feel so good and you should be mad because he didn’t even ask if you were okay with him _splitting you open on his arm_ but you just whine and plead for more and you really don’t know who you are anymore.

And Derek, he's just geinning down at you, praising your involuntary reaction of _more_ and how you are so, so beautiful just lying there and _taking it_ – taking him – and you think that you should bite at the fingers that suddenly push into your mouth and say that it is not like he gave you a choice, that he had tied you down in your sleep and never, never asked you if you wanted this.

And then the bed is moving as it usually does, headboard banging harshly against the wall as the arm in your butt pushes and draws back and the fingers in your mouth slips in deep and once again you can’t breathe, and you don’t know just when it happened but you suddenly feel even more cum than before drying on your face and chest, evidence plain as day of you coming.

You know it’s only a matter of time before you come again.

Your arms and legs are starting to feel funny from the lack of blood they're experiencing due to the bindings on you, and you wonder if you should ask him to release you from them, or maybe just loosen them a little, but then you feel the nails scraping on your tongue and remembers that it is not like you would be able to say anything anyway.

Derek say plenty of things though, calling you his pretty boy-toy, his personal little dump-hole that he’s soon gonna fill full with all the cum he’s been saving up for you – just for you – as soon as he is done with fisting you. But you know that that won’t happen for a long time, because this is Derek and he can go on and on and _on_ for hours upon hours, and he’s even telling you right now that he has got so much in store for your ass tonight that you won’t be able to walk for a really long time, and that maybe he is not even going to let you try and limp your way around, that maybe he going to keep you tied down to the bed for as long as he possibly can, until his friends and family starts to ask questions of _just how long is Stiles gonna be sick_ and _can we come and visit?_

That is one thing you know is not going to happen, because Derek is so possessive that he has problems even letting you out of the house now a days, and you know that while he might talk of just _what your dad would think if he saw you like this_ and how it _would be so fun to invite the pack over to watch him pound into you_ he would never ever share you with another.You were his and his alone.

He keeps pushing further and further into you, and you can almost feel his elbow inching closer to your opening, and Derek is wondering out loud if maybe he should go and get the beads that they keep in their drawer, those that have been in your ass so many times that you sometimes even fails to notice that they’re there those times when Derek put them in you while you were asleep. _And wouldn’t it be so good to have me fisting one of those as I pound my arm into your squelching, wet pussy that is always begging me for more? Maybe even get the long and thick purple dildo and stick it down your throat so that I can use my other hand elsewhere?_

_Wouldn’t that just feel amazing?_

And then he pulled his arm out with a filthy pop, leaving your hole empty and gaping wide, and moved off of the bed to get to their toy-stash – and look at that, he’s still completely dressed – and you watch him grab all the toys that he mentioned and then some, before slipping back onto the bed.

And you’re so tired – so, so tired – that you only barely feel the much more massive fist make its way back into you before the world goes completely black and you no longer hear the words that rain down on you or feel the way your mouth is getting filled with hardened plastic.

You absentmindedly wonder just how far a human is able to stretch before he ruptures.


End file.
